She knew he was right but it didn’t take the worry away. Or her extreme awareness of Oz’s handsome features watching her with such tenderness. The last ten years had been kind to him. Given him a more masculine edge. “I, um, forgot to congratulate you last night. I heard you hit New York Times. That’s fantastic.”
“The Babes need to be on my publicist’s advertising team. But thanks. Not bad for a neighborhood kid, huh?” he asked, fingers tucked into the pockets of his shorts.
“You always impressed with your writing.”
“So did you.”
She had. Once. But it had been so long since she’d written anything, she wasn’t sure she could. Oz had focused all his attention on developing his skills on the writing side of journalism, whereas she’d found it more fun to be in front of the camera. But in the end, it meant chasing dreams that had separated them and ended their relationship. “Look, I… owe you an apology, Oz. A lot of them, actually. I handled things all wrong from start to finish ten years ago and—”
“Water and bridge, like I said last night.”
Finally, she forced her gaze to his and found herself sucked in by his blue eyes. Where Logan and Michael’s gazes were dark blue, Oz’s blazed as though there was a fire behind them, giving them even more intensity in their light blue color. His gaze had always been her downfall. One glance and she melted.
And now that Oz was a bit older, scruffier, with hints of gray on his chin and at his temples, it added to his appeal and made him even more attractive. “Is it though?”
Oz ran a hand over his hair, tousling the longer strands on top. Her fingers itched with the desire to smooth and fix, and she shoved her hands into the side pockets of her simple summer dress.
“You chose, Devon.”
“I did. But that doesn’t tell me whether or not you really forgive me,” she said. “Or are you just pretending to because our families and histories are so… intertwined?”
A slow, sexy smile formed on his lips, and she looked away, feeling very much like the awkward schoolgirl she’d found herself becoming around him when she’d noticed him as more than a boy and her older cousin’s best friend.
“You needed to do your own thing. I didn’t like it. I hated it, in fact,” he said. “But I’d never want you to be unhappy, Devon. Not then and especially not now.”
The sweetness of his statement touched a place in the deepest recesses of her soul.
Oz was that guy. The one she’d given up and yet would never forget. Their goals and timing just hadn’t been right. But everything else? That had been overwhelmingly perfect. “I-I want the same for you. To be happy, I mean.”
“Then we agree,” he said with that southern drawl and charm of his. “So stop worrying.”
Silence followed his words, and she turned away, remembering how it had felt to be held by him even though she knew the danger of the temptation. “I was thinking of making lemonade. Would you like some? Or iced tea?”
“A New Yorker drinking sweet tea?”
A smile curled her lips. “Every girl has a vice.”
A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, and she felt herself blushing at the memory the sound brought about. That of him and her and an isolated stretch of beach on one of the uninhabited islands along the Intercoastal Waterway.
“So,” Oz said, stepping close to the island to peel back the lid of one of the containers the Babes had carried in. “When’s your fiancé arriving?”
Oz hadn’t meant to bring up the subject of Devon’s fiancé, but seeing as how she’d worn a ring last night… His curiosity got the best of him.
“He’s… not. I mean, I haven’t called him. Not yet. It was too late last night and this morning when Mama… I just haven’t had a chance.”
“You mean he doesn’t know your father passed?” Shouldn’t he have been the first person she’d called? Texted? Something?
“I-I’m not sure. He might. I mean, with as many reporters around as there are, and Oliver Beck’s involvement… He might.”
“But if that’s the case, it means he hasn’t contacted you, either,” Oz pointed out.
Devon moved away from him and went to the fridge, opening the door and staring inside like she searched for answers among the produce and milk.
“I told you, it’s… complicated. He’s very busy, so I thought I’d wait until the final arrangements were made so that I could relay them.”
“He should be here for you. The next few days—”
She slammed the fridge door shut and glared at him. “Stop. Okay? You do not get to judge a relationship you know nothing about.”